


cast your spell so you can rule me

by makasouls



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Asexual Pidge | Katie Holt, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Cuban Lance (Voltron), Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Underage Drinking, a decent amount of dick talk but no actual dicks sadly, but honestly can you blame him, hunk is that friend we all need, keith has a gay crisis™, keith is hella dramatic but what else is new, lance hardcore stans for beyonce i’m pretty sure this is canon, pidge takes no prisoners, space children shenanigans and also keith is very gay, the red lion is a traitor, this is a mess lmao, where are the adults in this fic, why would they leave these hooligans alone that's asking for trouble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-19
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-09-25 11:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9819206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makasouls/pseuds/makasouls
Summary: Lance caught his eye, mouth slack with liquor. This close, Keith could see the light spattering of freckles over his nose, could smell the alcohol on his breath. The taller boy winked.Christ.Or: the appendages of Voltron are all little shits, and Coran needs to hide his space booze better





	

**Author's Note:**

> Aaaaand I'm back! Of course I'm back. I've fallen down the Klance rabbithole and can't get up, tbh. (It's always good to know your weaknesses, they say)
> 
> Title from [Adore You by NAO](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Uj8uszCefk). You should listen to it as you read and think of poor, poor Keith

“Never ever…played this game before?” Keith tried.

Surprise overtook all of their faces, but it was Lance who felt the need voice his dismay. “First of all—” he raised a finger, “—it’s _never have I ever._ Second, what do you _mean_ you’ve never played this before?”

See, this was exactly why he should have said no when Lance had burst into his room after lights out, eyes sparkling, needling him to follow. Keith could tell immediately from the quirk of his lips that the blue paladin was up to no good. He really should have fought him when Lance grabbed him by the arm and led him to the common room excitedly. But who was he kidding? Keith knew he could never say no to that face.

And he definitely should have turned around when he found the room already occupied by Pidge and Hunk, each clutching their own large bottle with labels written in what Keith recognized to be Altean. Their faces were already a bit pink, and their smiles were too big, and he should have turned _right the fuck back around_. But Lance had slung an arm carelessly around Keith’s shoulders, telling him about how he had found Coran’s stash while cleaning the castle earlier that day, talking too fast in his excitement, and Keith was _weak_. He had taken the bottle Hunk proffered him and sat down.

Now he was playing a drinking game with his friends, and he was stuck.

“You haven’t even played a non-alcoholic version?” Hunk asked curiously.

What was the least embarrassing way of explaining to them all that he had never really _had_ any friends growing up because he was shuttled from foster home to foster home, that the only friend he had had in the Garrison was _Shiro_ , who was a good ten years older than him, that, in case they hadn’t noticed already, he was really fucking awkward? “…No.”

“Huh.” Pidge shrugged, taking a drink, and the others followed suit. “Well, these are the rules. When it’s your turn, you say something that you’ve never done. Anyone else in the group who has done that thing has to drink. No cheating allowed!”

“How do you win?” Keith blinked as the others waved the question off. “If there’s no real winner, then what’s the point?”

“To get drunk,” Pidge replied flatly. “Now it’s your turn, Hunk.”

Hunk paused for a moment, twirling his bottle as he thought, then sighed dramatically. “Never have I ever been to a Beyonce concert.”

Lance raised his bottle so quickly that he almost smashed the mouth of it into his teeth. “Oh no. I am so sorry, man. That is so rough.”

“I _know_.” Hunk sounded like he was in mourning.

“Her self-titled album _changed my life_.”

“ _B-Day_ is so underrated,” Pidge added, taking a sip. The three boys looked at her in surprise, and she pinked a little under the scrutiny. Or maybe it was the alcohol already—she was fair-skinned and probably a lightweight. “What? My brother’s a huge fan, okay?”

“ _Just_ your brother?” Hunk grinned, but didn’t press further.

Lance just nodded solemnly. “As he should be. Keith probably doesn’t even know who she is.”

Keith bristled. “I’ve heard her songs on the radio,” he said defensively. “She sings that umbrella song, right?”

The screech Lance let out was so high-pitched and inhuman that Keith had to stop himself from punching him out of pure reflex to _make it stop_.

Pidge clapped a hand over Keith’s mouth. He looked at her incredulously as she leaned in close. “ _Watch it._ You’re never safe from the Beyhive,” she whispered. “Not even in space.”

_What._

She let him go, out of his space so quickly that Keith wondered if she had ever been there in the first place, but now Lance was ranting, clearly offended, going on and on about how as much as he loved Riri, she wasn’t even on the same _level_ —

“Lance, it’s your turn,” Hunk prompted, because he was too good for this world and Keith didn’t deserve him, honestly. None of them did.

The blue paladin let out a final huff, drumming his fingers on his knees. “Never have I ever…cried during a Pixar movie.”

“You didn’t cry during _Up_?” Hunk demanded incredulously, drinking. “Everyone cries during _Up._ ”

“Monster,” Pidge muttered, taking a drink.

“I saw it in theaters, and had to keep taking my siblings to the bathroom, coincidentally during the sad parts,” Lance said smugly.

“ _Toy Story 3_?” Hunk couldn’t let it go. This was ridiculous. “ _Inside Out_? The first five minutes of _Finding Nemo_?”

Pidge wasn’t amused. “Never have I ever swam in the ocean.”

Hunk took a swallow good-naturedly. Lance, though? His eyes narrowed at the tiny girl. “Oh come _on_ ,” he groused, taking another sip.

Pidge shrugged innocently. Her gaze moved to Keith, whose bottle had yet to see any action, and raised an eyebrow in silent question.

“I don’t watch that many movies,” Keith murmured. “And I’ve never even seen the ocean.”

That wiped the scowl off Lance’s face—he absolutely _lit_ up. “Dude, really? That’s so crazy to me—I practically live in the ocean! The beach is like three minutes away from my house, and me and my siblings used to just hang out there and swim and surf and make sandcastles…” He drifted off, a faraway look in his eye, before he brought his attention back to Keith with a small smile. “Come with me when this is all over, man. Let me show you Varadero.”

Keith watched him take an idle swig of his drink, and barely noticed when the others casually did the same. Instead, he tried to ignore how gooseflesh overtook his body at the way Lance’s tongue had curved around _Varadero._ “I’ve never failed a flight simulation,” he blurted before he could say something much more incriminating.

His three friends stared at him, each with varying expressions of irritation, before begrudgingly downing more liquor.

“Looks like Keith’s figured this game out,” Lance said warily. Keith blinked at him in confusion.

“We wouldn’t even be in this position if someone could actually thread the needle, mister _they call me The Tailor_ ,” Pidge snipped.

“What?! I was distracted by the puking!” the tall boy snapped, looking to Hunk. “No offense, buddy.”

“None taken,” the larger boy mused. “Though I seem to also remember our communications specialist being bad at communicating.”

“I wasn’t taking it as seriously as I could have,” she responded hotly. “I was focused on looking for my family—”

“How about we agree that all of you were terrible,” Keith deadpanned. But no one seemed to hear him; Lance and Pidge were glaring at each other, the intensity of it broken by the friendly challenge in their smirks.

“Never have I ever wanted to kiss a dude that wasn’t related to me,” Pidge said quickly, mouth curving smugly.

Keith froze, wondering just how much bonding his teammates were planning on doing. His sexuality never seemed like a necessary thing to bring up up, what, with them fighting an intergalactic war in giant sentient lions, and all. He wasn’t hiding it, but his life experiences had him a bit hesitant to just—

“It’s not even your turn. Are you targeting me, Pidgeon?”

Keith’s eyes snapped to Lance in surprise, but the other boy was only looking suspiciously at Pidge, who was wearing such a blatantly put-upon innocent expression that Lance’s gaze only narrowed even further.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied, voice way too sugary-sweet. It was creepy. “Besides, I thought this was a competition. Mad because I’m a better strategist than you?”

“I’m not sure how it’s strategy to go after the guy who clearly leads a more exciting life than you,” Lance crowed. He drank, looking smug. “But if that makes you feel better, please do continue.”

Pidge sniffed. Before she could retort, Lance was talking again.

“Never have I ever _crossdressed_ ,” he said, clearly proud of himself. Pidge glowered, but took her drink like a champ, looking Lance directly in the eye as she did it.

“Uh, buddy?” Hunk piped up, holding up a finger. “Did you forget about Halloween?”

Pidge snickered as Lance smacked his forehead. “ _Shit_!”

Keith looked between them as Lance chugged an unhealthy amount from his bottle. “What?” he asked Hunk.

“It’s one of the rules we play by,” the yellow paladin explained. “If the person who says they’ve never done something actually _has_ , they have to take four drinks. It’s to discourage cheating.”

“So Lance has crossdressed,” Keith said flatly.

Hunk winked, then took a swig himself. “We went as Sailor Senshi for Halloween this year.”

Pidge was cracking up, holding her stomach as if it hurt. “Which one were you?”

“Ami, _obviously._ ” Lance crossed his arms, pouting. Keith heard him mutter under his breath, “..the fuck do you think I am…”

The red paladin was actually starting to feel a bit bad for the blue at this point—he had taken a drink during every round that was instigated by someone else. It did sort of seem like he was being ganged up on.

“Uh…never have I ever wanted to kiss a girl?” Keith ventured in an attempt to help Lance out, and immediately wanted to just…fade into nonexistence. Because a.) that was stupid, of _course_ Lance has wanted to kiss girls, anyone around him for longer than five seconds knew that and b.) he had just exposed himself, had just revealed something that he rarely shared with others.

If someone could be merciful and just toss him out the airlock, that would be super.

Eyes wide, heart a rapid staccato in his chest, Keith hesitantly looked at his friends’ reactions.

Hunk was smiling at him encouragingly, taking a sip from his bottle in defeat.

Pidge didn’t flinch, wasn’t even looking at him. Instead, her grin grew wider as she looked at Lance.

And Lance…

He was looking right back at him, eyes turned to slits. Keith’s blood ran cold.

“I knew it,” Lance hissed, and Keith was rapidly thinking of possible escape routes. “I _knew_ I was being targeted.” His lips twitched at the corners.

The breath left Keith in a surprised rush. He blinked.

“I’ll have you know,” Lance continued dramatically, pointing an accusatory finger at Keith, then moving on to Pidge, and even Hunk for good measure, “that this is discrimination, and I will not stand for it!”

“Discrimination for what? Being ugly?” Pidge chirped, scuttling away when Lance made a swipe for her.

The blue paladin gasped, offended. “ _Excuse me._ I’m like a modern-day Adonis!”

“A true work of art,” Hunk agreed. Lance held his fist out, and without looking, Hunk tapped it with his own.

“Obviously,” Keith said, and almost smacked himself when it came out waaaay more fond than he had intended. Both Hunk and Pidge looked at him; Pidge looked like she wanted burst out laughing again.

Luckily, Lance was either too dense or too tipsy to notice, so he magically heard the sarcasm Keith had intended. He scowled. “Never have I ever _had a mullet_.”

“Really,” Keith replied, not impressed. But to be fair, he had forgotten to drink during the boy-kissing round—too stunned by the fact that _Lance_ was drinking—so he probably deserved this. He raised the bottle to his lips, the liquid smelling simultaneously sweet and aggressive, and took a cautious, baby sip.

He almost spat it out.

The liquor tasted much like what Keith thought battery acid might, most likely killing all of his taste buds and ensuring he would never properly enjoy his space goo again. “How are you drinking this?” he demanded as Pidge laughed at the disgusted expression he was making.  Lance snickered.

There was no way his friends were sober at this point. They had been drinking that poison like it was water.

Pidge’s smile turned sinister. “Never have I ever…”

“Pidge,” Lance interrupted. Keith had to lean back so he wouldn’t be smacked in the face by the other boy’s wildly gesturing hands. “You just went like, five times.”

But she wasn’t deterred—her grin just grew wider. “Never have I ever sucked a dick.”

Lance sighed loudly, sounding very put upon, but took another drink, some of the liquor not making it into his mouth and dribbling a bit down his chin.

“What!” Keith blurted before he could catch himself. His eyes were wide. “How many?”

“That’s rude, Keith,” Hunk said, the sternness of his tone dampened by the way his eyes couldn’t seem to focus. “You can’t just ask somebody—”

“Two,” Lance crowed.

Keith’s world tilted. He couldn’t stop gaping at Lance. He clutched his bottle for dear life because he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. “Two whole dicks?” he gasped.

“What, did you expect him to suck two _half_ dicks?” Hunk asked confusedly.

Lance’s face scrunched up, eyes wide. “Ex _cuse_ me,” he snapped at Keith, clearly offended. “Of course I sucked whole dicks! I’ll have you know I am the best at what I do!”

Keith blinked. “I-I never said—”

“Like, I’ve been told that my skills are on another level!” Lance was rambling now, fired up and slighted about something Keith seemed to miss from one sentence to the next. “I can take you on any time, any day, Mullet!”

“What?” Keith mumbled, brain still moving at a snail’s pace. He took a sip from his bottle to calm his nerves, grimacing.

“ _Another level_ , Keith!”

“What level?” Hunk mused. “Like, boss level? Or one of those secret levels you can unlock if you make certain choices during gameplay?”

“Do you mean you can beat Keith in a dick-sucking contest, or that you’ll prove your skills by sucking his dick?” Pidge asked.

“Either! Both!” Lance bragged. He smirked at Keith, a clear competitive glint in slightly-unfocused eyes. “Keith wouldn’t be able to _handle_ me.”

The red paladin inhaled sharply, the space alcohol burning its way down the wrong pipe and making him choke. Hunk pounded him absently on the back as he sputtered, using a little too much force.

“Well then, Keith.” Pidge’s widening grin did nothing to help the flush raging across his skin. “Looks like you can be lucky dick number three, if you play your cards right.”

“Uhh,” Keith answered intelligently.

“Listen. _Listen_ ,” Hunk interrupted. _Bless him_. Keith had _always_ liked that guy. The other two paused, blinking blearily at him. “As much as I’d like to talk more about Lance’s dick-sucking skills, there’s something that I have to get off my chest. It’s really been bothering me.”

“ _Mira_ , _mira_ , everyone listen to Hunk,” Lance yelled unnecessarily, since everyone was _already_ listening to Hunk. He began petting the side of Hunk’s face in what he drunkenly thought was comforting and supportive, but looked more to Keith like Hunk was being lightly slapped. “What’s the matter, my hunka burnin’ love?”

“It’s just…” Hunk looked each of them in the eye and then lowered his voice to a stage whisper. “Have you ever noticed that Allura has a British accent?”

“Yes,” Pidge answered, her face so serious, Keith had to fight the laugh that wanted to escape him. Or was it a sob? The world may never know.

“But Coran is like…” Hunk waved his arms vaguely. “Australian or something.”

Suddenly, Keith was aware he was being touched. A quick look to the side showed it was Lance, arm lazily creeping across Keith’s shoulders as if it had all the time in the world, and every right to be there. Keith felt like one of those goats that’s limbs froze up when startled, because honestly, move a muscle? He could barely _breathe_.

Lance caught his eye, mouth slack with liquor. This close, Keith could see the light spattering of freckles over his nose, could smell the alcohol on his breath. The taller boy winked.

_Christ._

“But they’re both Altean,” Pidge said slowly. Her flushed face scrunched as she thought. “Why do they have different accents?”

“Why do they have regional accents from Earth at _all_?” Hunk was all worked up, gesturing wildly, his voice too loud. “When they’ve never been there? I just don’t understand?”

“Hey,” Lance slurred in Keith’s ear, and the dark-haired pilot felt the shiver all the way down to his fingernails. He was still too spooked-goat to do anything sensible, like put a little space between them or run away screaming. Instead, he was embarrassingly aware of how much he enjoyed the comfortable weight of Lance’s arm, the heat of his body against his side.

Frankly, Keith didn’t know why the universe was doing this to him—he was a good person?

Lance gestured toward’s Keith’s bottle with his own. “You barely drank any. You…you’re really good at this.”

“Maybe you’re just bad,” Keith managed to croak.

The alcohol must have slowed the blue paladin’s sharp, aggressive tongue, because he did nothing more than grin at Keith, his eyes soft.

_Oh for the love of—_

Just fucking shoot him. Why was no one putting Keith out of his misery? Where was Zarkon when you needed him? _Just fucking_ —

Lance wasn’t looking at him anymore. “Maybe they’re not speaking English at all,” he interjected. “What are the chances that in the entire universe, we ended up on a spaceship with aliens who speak English as a second language? Isn’t it more likely that the ship is somehow translating for us, or whatever?”

There was a bit of stunned silence as Hunk and Pidge had their minds visibly _blown_. Even Keith stopped his internal crisis a bit to think about that one.

“Oh my god,” Pidge whispered. She and Hunk were set off on a tangent of probabilities and theories and other things way above Keith’s head.

Lance watched them, amused. He seemed to have forgotten where he had rested his arm.

Keith didn’t forget. But he certainly didn’t remind him, either.

They all stayed up a little bit longer, throwing around theories about their alien teammates, as well as the aliens they met along the way (was it the castle translating? Their suits? Or was English truly a universal language?). Eventually, Pidge passed out, spread-eagle on the floor, snoring, and they decided to call it a night.

Hunk gathered her onto his back and headed towards her room. Which left Keith to walk back with Lance.

Lance grabbed Keith by the elbow, singing softly in Spanish the whole way.

~.~.~

When Keith startled awake for the fiftieth time that night, heart pounding, he decided to just admit defeat and climb out of bed. The seemingly harmless game he and the other young paladins had played the night before had been anything but—it had revealed things about Lance that his brain _would not let him forget_ , not even for five measly hours. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw startling blue ones, or a quirked smile, or felt phantom caresses. He awoke in cold sweats, breathing hard, clutching his sheets for dear life, and if he was completely honest with himself, any more of this torture and he was sure to make an embarrassing mess in his sleeping pants.

He just needed to clear his head, and talking to Red usually did that. So, after changing out of his pajamas without bothering to shower, Keith made his way toward the Red Lion’s hangar.

To his surprise, Pidge and Hunk were already there, looking just as exhausted as Keith felt. Hunk lay face-down on the floor, immobile, and though Pidge was upright, she wasn’t looking any better. Half of her hair was plastered to her head; the other half looked like she had put her finger in an electrical socket. She sat cross-legged next to Hunk, tapping away on her keyboard, and as Keith entered, she grimaced at him in greeting.

“What are you guys doing here?” Keith asked, voice cracking after hours of not being used.

Hunk shushed him, though with his face smushed against the floor, it sounded like more like air slowly escaping a balloon.

“Maintenance,” Pidge croaked.

That made Keith pause. He had never thought about it before, but he supposed his robotic lion might have to be taken care of, like a car might. “You guys work on Red?” he asked curiously. “How often do you do that?”

The exhaustion seemed to leave Pidge’s expression a bit, her lips twitching in a way Keith wasn’t sure he liked.

“We look at each of the lions at least once a week,” Hunk chimed in.

“Well, _no_ ,” Pidge drawled, the light reflecting off of her glasses, and the glare hiding her eyes. She gestured between herself and Hunk. “ _We_ don’t work on Red.”

Keith scowled. “What? You just said—”

“She won’t let us touch her,” Pidge said flippantly.

“Won’t even let us inside,” Hunk confirmed.

Keith looked up at his lion, eyebrows furrowed. Her head was resting on her paws, and her ear flicked at his unspoken question before she opened her mouth.

After a moment, a familiar body stepped out. Lance was a bit worse for the wear—bags under his eyes, a tired air to his gait, but when he saw Keith, he stood a little straighter and shot finger-guns his way.

Keith was not prepared for any of this. He _especially_ wasn’t prepared for…“Wha-Wh—” His mouth was too dry. He swallowed thickly and tried again, willing his voice to be steady. “Why are you _naked_?” No such luck.

“I still have pants on,” Lance retorted. He pointed a thumb at Red. “And I’ve ruined too many shirts because of _this one_ ’s bitchy moods. _Bruja roja_.” But his eyes softened affectionately, and the hanger was filled with a low, comforting rumbling that Keith realized was coming from Red.

Keith gaped like a fish, and he glanced between his lion and the blue paladin. Now that he mentioned it, there _were_ smudges of a dark, grease-like substance across Lance’s broad shoulders (were they always that broad? There was no way they were always that broad); little bits that fanned on his chest like finger trails (Lance had _chest hair?_ It was barely noticeable—dark, but fine, and not quite long enough to curl like it wanted—but _Keith definitely noticed_ ) and trailed down his decidedly not too-skinny frame—

The red paladin clacked his mouth shut and looked away, lest he spend more time gawking like an idiot. “She likes you,” he said to himself. More statement than question.

Lance answered him anyway, because he was _Lance_ , and pass up a chance to preen like a peacock and brag? Definitely not. “Of course she likes me,” the taller boy huffed. His smile was small, soft, and lopsided, and Keith’s insides twisted because oh no, _oh no_. Lance patted the lion’s paw fondly. “Me and Big Red go way back. Ain’t that right, baby girl?”

The feeling of affection Keith was suddenly hit with was overwhelming; he unconsciously staggered back a little, blood rushing in his ears, unable to tell if the near-suffocating feeling in his chest was coming from himself or his lion. Probably both, that little shit.

His head snapped up at her, glaring. _Traitor_ , he sent her way, but Red just purred, her tail swaying amusedly.

Pidge was blatantly staring at him, eyebrow quirked, and even Hunk was looking from his prostrate position. Clearly, the implications of the temperamental, hard-trusting Red Lion letting in Lance of all people were not lost on them. Keith felt his skin get hot, mind scrambling for valid excuses.

“Is it safe?” he blurted, if only for a response that wouldn’t embarrass himself. But the way the softness left Lance’s face let him know it was a poor choice.

“You haven’t died yet, have you?” Lance mused, tone deceptively light. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I mean, I’m no engineer, but I seem to remember getting into the same highly-selective school as you.”

Keith swallowed. “I—I didn’t mean—”

“Took all the same classes as you. More, actually, since you got kicked out.” Spoken matter-of-factly, no malice, but Keith felt the daggers all the same. “But don’t worry—Hunk and Pidge are here to coach me through the more complicated stuff.” Lance tilted his head in their direction, then started walking. “I need to shower.”

Dread crawled up Keith’s throat as Lance left the hangar. Hunk gave Keith a disappointed look. “ _Dude._ ”

Pidge’s attention was back on her laptop, but that didn’t stop her from chiming in as well. “You know,” she said conversationally, not even meeting his eyes. Her fingers tapped across the keyboard. “This isn’t the way you go about being dick number three.”

“I just…I didn’t _mean_ …” Keith ran a hand through his hair in distress, then promptly turned to follow Lance. “ _Fuck._ ” But he quickly turned back to the other two, realizing he had no clue what he was going to do once he found the blue paladin. “What—what do I—”

“Talk to him,” Pidge said flatly.

“Just tell him how you feel, man,” Hunk added. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

Keith’s face burned. He wanted to deny it, but his inability to talk to Lance without sounding like a dumbass, as well as his robotic lion playing favorites, kind of made it moot point. He shuddered out a breath. “I’ll talk to him,” he promised, more to himself than the other two. “After his shower.”

~.~.~

An hour later, after looking for Lance in all of his usual haunts—his room, the kitchen, the common room—and striking out, Keith immediately knew where to look next.

He found him sitting by himself in the dark, looking out into the endless expanse of space. It was another observation deck, this one deeper into the castle and smaller than the one they used almost daily, but it was the perfect place for Lance to reflect and put everything into perspective. Or so he had said when Keith had found him there the first time.

Lance cocked his head in Keith’s direction when he heard him enter, but he didn’t look at him, not even when Keith cautiously sat next to him on the floor.

“Hey,” Keith hedged softly.

No response. No inclination that Lance had heard him at all, and Keith’s insides twisted with dread. He knew how Lance struggled with feelings of inferiority, how no matter how many times he came up with amazing plans or saved everyone’s asses in battle or made them all laugh or listened whenever someone needed an ear or—

No matter how many times he was _Lance_ , a vital and irreplaceable part of their team, their _family_ , Lance still saw himself as merely a body needed to form Voltron, and a mediocre one at that, constantly wondering why the Blue Lion had chosen him. Wondering what made him an asset.

Keith knew all of this—had heard parts from Lance, months ago in this very room; had picked up on the rest through offhanded comments and the downfallen expressions the blue paladin made when he thought no one was paying attention—and yet he had still questioned Lance’s competency at working on the Red Lion.

He had royally fucked up, and he knew it. 

So, heart pounding, he took a deep breath. _Fuck_ it, he thought. Nothing left to lose.

 “I never meant to imply that you aren’t smart, or that I don’t trust you. You’re one of the smartest people I know, and I trust you with my life.” With a breath, he met the other boy’s gaze, and saw Lance’s eyebrows raised in surprise, his mouth forming an _O_. 

Whoo boy, this was it. Keith was finally gonna say it—he swallowed down the urge to puke and soldiered on. “And obviously, so does Red. I was just nervous because…I like you. I _like_ you, and you came out of my lion smiling and shirtless, and I wasn’t prepared—” Holy shit _,_ stop talking, he had been doing so well, _STOP TALKING._

Lance seemed to process this information slowly, his expression smoothing out before scrunching up in confusion. Color creeped up the back of his neck, his ears, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally being able to speak.

“Was it the dick-sucking?” Keith was going to combust any moment, and Lance didn’t seem too far behind, his brown skin now flushed across his cheekbones. “Because that’s not usually something I advertise about myself. I was just drunk, so.”

Keith gaped, struck momentarily dumb. He noticed that Lance didn’t _take back_ any of his claims, just mentioned that he usually didn’t bring them up.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m not easy. _Well except_ …” He paused as he thought to himself, but then shook his head. “ _Nope,_ not going there. I am not easy, Keith.”

The sound of his name on Lance’s tongue was what finally roused Keith. He shook his head rapidly. “N-No, that’s not—”

Lance looked confused. “So you _don’t_ want me to suck your dick?”

Was this actually happening? This couldn’t be happening. “I didn’t say that,” he squeaked, flustered.

“So you _do_ —”

“This has nothing to do with that!” Keith snapped, frustrated. “Can you just..can you just shut up and _listen_ for a second?”

And Lance actually did, surprising them both. And now that he had the floor, Keith wasn’t sure how to properly dictate what he wanted to say. “This isn’t because of that,” he continued, looking away. “You’re cute and funny and clever and selfless and I’ve liked you for a while. I just didn’t know you liked guys, or if you’d even give me the time of day so I didn’t say anything.” He breathed. “So there. Now you know.”

After a few more moments of silence, Lance cleared his throat. “You thought I wouldn’t give you the time of day?” he asked, an incredulous lilt to his tone.

“You’re always yelling at me and trying to jump down my throat,” Keith pointed out defensively. He met his gaze again, crossing his arms. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘I want to date you’.”

“Maybe that’s because you’re better than me at literally everything,” Lance huffed with a pout. “And it’s not fair that you can look sexy as hell while handing me my ass on a platter. It’s just not right.”

Keith could practically see his own thoughts stalling, spinning like the dreaded Wheel of Death, but he couldn’t help it. _Did this mean what he thought it meant?_

Cautiously, face still red, Lance placed a hand on top of Keith’s. When the other boy didn’t pull away, Lance adjusted their hands until their fingers easily slotted together.

Keith stopped breathing.

“How long is ‘a while’?” the blue paladin asked, unable to meet Keith’s eyes. Not that Keith noticed. Nope, both of them were resolutely looking at the stars and not each other, hands entwined. Lance’s was a bit clammy, but Keith barely had the brainpower for it to register.

“…Since the Garrison,” Keith admitted. Why not tell the truth? Obviously he was dreaming. Or dead. Either way, this was not reality, so what was the harm? He rubbed his thumb lightly over Lance’s knuckles, and noticed when the other boy shivered a bit at the action.

“That long?” Lance demanded, eyes practically bugging out of his head. But then he huffed a laugh, as if it had escaped his lips without his permission. “So you _did_ remember me. You’re such a fucking asshole.”

“So charming,” Keith deadpanned.

“And that’s another thing that makes you an asshole—why did you wait until I was hungover as shit to confess to me? I’m not on my A-game! The wooing I could have done, Keith.”

“Lance, if I’m confessing, that means there is no need to woo me.”

His face scrunched up incredulously. “Obviously you are terrible at romance and don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Keith laughed, because though Lance was ridiculous, he wasn’t exactly _wrong_. After contemplating for a moment, he leaned his head on Lance’s shoulder, and the other boy immediately squeezed his hand. He smelled like their communal shampoo.

“Just you wait, dude. As soon as I sweat all this alcohol out of my system, you’re gonna be wooed so hard. Whoa man, you don’t even _know_.”

“Uh huh,” he tried to say impassively, but of its own accord, his mouth stretched into a grin.

“Seriously! I would have kissed you by now if I hadn’t just thrown up in my mouth a little. Or at least done some heavy petting. Light petting. Okay, medium petting because I would definitely want to make it clear that I was into you, but I wouldn’t want you to get the impression that I was only into you for your body.”

Keith looked at him incredulously, unsuccessfully smothering the giggle that escaped him. He had just fucking giggled, _what the actual fuck._

Unfortunately, Lance noticed, cheeks dusted pink and smile too wide as his eyes sparkled at Keith in the starlight. “But I’m not feeling very woo-y right now, bro—your timing is shit and it sucks to be you.”

Keith ignored the thrill that raced through him and said smartly, “I thought you weren’t easy?”

Lance looked at him sideways from beneath the long shadows of his lashes. The slope of his lips was sinful, and Keith got the sudden urge to trace it with his tongue.

“I lied.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hunk was obviously Sailor Venus, what do you take me for (and now I want a crossover fic _sighhhh_ )
> 
> Say hi [here](http://makasouls.tumblr.com/) and come scream with me about Voltron [here](http://gdi-lance.tumblr.com/)!


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